


Always

by Citlali



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, post season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citlali/pseuds/Citlali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s wrong?” Are the first words out of Foggy's mouth because he knows if this isn't a wrong number, there's no way Matt is calling at three am just to chat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

Foggy’s phone rang at three am.  
  
There had been a time, not that long ago, when that hadn’t been all that unusual. The urge to ignore it briefly crossed his mind. It would serve Matt right if …  
  
But it might not be him. Matt hadn’t called him in over a month. Foggy kept a close eye on the news and twitter feeds for sightings of Daredevil, afraid every day that Matt would be found dead or get shot or arrested. More than once, he found himself sitting on his fire escape in the middle of the night, listening for sounds of… he didn’t know what. He wasn’t Matt; he couldn’t hear distinct heartbeats two blocks away, all he heard were distant sirens and car horns. No sign of Daredevil, no sign of Matt Murdock.  
  
The number was unknown. Matt’s burner phone?  
  
He doesn't have to expect the worst; if it is Matt, he already knows it will be the worst.  
  
Maybe not. Maybe it’s a wrong number. Or maybe Matt got drunk and forgot they weren't friends anymore.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Are the first words out of his mouth because he knows if this isn't a wrong number, there's no way Matt is calling at three am just to chat.  
  
“Matt is that you?”  
  
Traffic sounds and heavy breathing were all that answered. "You better not have just butt dialed me at three a.m. Nope. Strike that- I hope that is exactly what you did. Come on. Talk. What’s the-”  
  
“ _Foggy_.” The sound of Matt’s voice was wrong. Not his scary Daredevil voice wrong, this wasn’t that voice. “ _Foggy. Foggy._ ” Matt was breathless, the words were slurred and not properly formed.  
  
“Matt? What the hell?”  
  
A few more moments had passed in silence before Matt started speaking again. “ _I need help, Foggy. You’re the only- please. I’m in trouble. I’m on 42nd street, I think. I believe that it's 42nd. There’s a meat store. I can smell it. I'm in the doorway of a meat store. Foggy, I can’t hear. Everything is dark._ ” Foggy was already up and pulling on socks and an old college t-shirt and sweatpants. All he needed were shoes, and he was out the door. Wait. He went back in for his baseball bat.  
  
On the phone, Matt started saying his name again and then repeated his message. “ _I can’t hear anything. I’m on 42nd in the doorway of a meat market. I need your help. Please_.” The line went dead and then rang again a moment later. Matt. Same message.  
  
A cab would be a waste of time. 42nd Street was only two blocks away. He only knew of the one deli place on 42nd in the neighborhood, _Mikey’s Meats_. Foggy ran.  
  
The street was dark and silent. Matt hung up, Foggy’s phone rang again. Matt. Same message.  
  
He slowed down at the deli. He hoped it was the right place. If not, he would search every meat store in Hell's Kitchen until he did find the right one.  
  
Even at three am there was traffic. Foggy stopped at the front entrance. The brick wall came out and angled, creating a space protected from the street.  
  
His phone rang again. This time, he left it in his pocket, because he could hear Matt speaking. Saying his name, saying the same message all over again.  
  
“Matt,” Foggy called out.  
  
Nothing. Matt continued talking into the phone. Even in the shadows Foggy could see he was still dressed in his daredevil outfit, but with the mask off. Matt sat crouched, clutching his phone. His hands were shaking. “Foggy, I need your help. I’m on 42nd street, in the doorway of a meat market. Please, I need-”  
  
Foggy approached carefully, there was no danger in sight and so he leaned the bat up against the wall. He wasn’t sure how to go about this part because any easy way of identifying himself to Matt was out the window, and he didn't want Matt to accidently attack him either.  
  
But, he knew his friend well enough by now to have picked up on a few tricks. He clapped his hands.  
  
It worked, Matt couldn't hear Foggy clap, but he _felt_ the sound waves and the motion in the air. Matt flinched backward in surprise, and Foggy winced in sympathy as his head bumped against the brick wall. Matt stopped talking into the phone.  
  
Foggy clapped again. Matt didn’t flinch this time, but he did place a hand against the brick.  
  
Again, Foggy clapped this time to the tune of _Shave and a hair cut, two bits._  
  
“Foggy?” Matt reached out, and Foggy met him halfway and wrapped his fingers around Matt’s hand. Matt pulled him closer, pulling Foggy’s hand up near his face, inhaling deeply, before releasing a choked sob and dragging Foggy into a sudden hug.  
  
“You got- you got my call. Thank you. Foggy, Thank you,” Matt whispered.  
  
Foggy couldn’t think of much to do other than hug him back, but it felt wrong not to be talking.  
  
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he pulled Matt onto his feet and Matt tucked his arm into Foggy’s, half his body pressed right up against his side. He kept to as many shadows as possible while leading Matt back to his apartment. It wasn't like this was his first time leading Matt somewhere while injured. Even in New York, it was weird to be walking down the street at three a.m. with a guy wearing what looked like a motorcycle suit. Not conspicuous at all.  
  
Matt was not steady on his feet. Foggy led him as carefully as possible, which meant they walked slow and Matt stumbled as though he couldn't even trust where the pavement was.  
  
And through it all, Foggy kept up a steady stream of verbal diarrhea. Matt at some point placed his hand flat on Foggy’s back and held onto his arm with his other hand. It felt like an awkward wedding march.  
  
“I wish I could ask you if I need to be worried about ninja’s following us or something.” Foggy sighed. “You would have warned me already if we were in danger, right? I don't have to worry about any ninjas or gun toting maniacs chasing us, do I?" And, of course, Matt didn't answer, he couldn't.  
  
They finally reached Foggy's apartment, he led Matt inside and locked the door behind them, "Okay, stay put. Let’s get this thing off you.” Foggy reached around for the neck clasp, Matt caught his hand and took over. Slowly peeling off the layers of the outfit until he was standing in his underwear in Foggy’s living room. There were no injuries, at least nothing that looked new, and no blood.  
  
And there he was, Matt, shivering and more vulnerable than Foggy had ever seen him and Foggy hated it when Matt got hurt, but he could never hate Matt. He grabbed the blanket off the couch and shook it out before wrapping it around his friend's shoulders, and Matt caught the edges, pulling it close around himself.  
  
"Foggy?"  
  
Ever so softly, Foggy placed his hand on Matt's shoulder and led him over to the couch, pushing gently to direct him where to sit down. Matt sat.  
  
“My ears, Foggy it’s my ears. I don’t know what happened; I don’t know,” Matt said, he reached out again and caught Foggy’s hand, and then slowly, hesitantly brought his hand up to his face. He tilted his head slightly, and Foggy saw the blood dried there, Matt tilted his head the other way and it was the same with the other ear.  What the hell happened?  
  
There was a memo pad on the coffee table, Foggy reached over and grabbed it, tearing off the top page and placing it on a paperback novel. He took a pen and pressed deep into the paper.  
  
_Hospital?_  
  
He placed the paper in Matt's hand, running this finger over the letters. “No. No hospitals.”  
  
Foggy tore off another piece of paper.  
  
_Claire?_  
  
Matt nodded. “Yes, please. That’s good. Thank you, Foggy.”  
  
Claire answered on the third ring, sounding tired but alert. Matt started talking again, but Foggy patted his arm then guided his hand up to touch the phone.  
  
Matt stayed quiet and placed his hand on Foggy’s chest.  
  
Foggy quickly gave Claire the highlights, and she reluctantly agreed to come over.  
  
The whole time Matt’s hand stayed on Foggy’s chest, palm flat and fingers splayed out.  
  
“I can only imagine how much this must be freaking you out, buddy,” Foggy patted Matt’s hand and then wrote again on the paper he’d used earlier.  
  
_Claire is on her way_  
  
“Okay,” Matt breathed out harshly and then repeated it as he placed his hand yet again firmly against Foggy’s chest. “Your ribs vibrate when you talk. You’re talking a lot. I can't hear you.”  
  
“You don’t listen when you can hear me, so I don’t see what the difference is,” Foggy answered. He tore off another piece of paper.  
  
_Feels weird not to talk to you._  
  
“Okay. It’s good. I like feeling you-” Matt stopped talking. “I know I haven’t been around for you. Thank you for being here for me.”  
  
_Always._  
  
Matt’s thumb traced the words over and over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Leaving a comment is like giving a present - you know you're making someone's day! (especially mine)
> 
>  
> 
> Kinkmeme fill:  
> Prompt: Matt telling his phone to call foggy and then just -- 'Foggy, I can't hear anything right now, please come over--'  
> http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8423.html?thread=16521191#cmt16521191


End file.
